


kiss me. Cut me. Knife me. Fuck me. - Rated M for mature - Abby/Kate Sanctuary

by MikaUriah



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, BDSM, Cutting, F/F, Femslash, Knives, Light BDSM, POV Female Character, Self-Mutilation, Wax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 20:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaUriah/pseuds/MikaUriah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fanfic has several warnings: Femslash, knife play/light BDSM; this fic also contains triggers for some people (in this case cutting/self-mutilation) if this offends, disturbs or may be a trigger for you, turn back now.</p>
    </blockquote>





	kiss me. Cut me. Knife me. Fuck me. - Rated M for mature - Abby/Kate Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic has several warnings: Femslash, knife play/light BDSM; this fic also contains triggers for some people (in this case cutting/self-mutilation) if this offends, disturbs or may be a trigger for you, turn back now.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Notes: This fanfic has several warnings: Femslash, knife play/light BDSM; this fic also contains triggers for some people (in this case cutting/self-mutilation) if this offends, disturbs or may be a trigger for you, turn back now.

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There’s a part of me that Will doesn’t know, and I’m afraid of what he will do if he ever finds out.

I started playing with knives just when I turned 16. Mom was sick and Dad was under some college co-ed and I admit I used to cut - not enough to actually kill myself or do any serious physical damage.  
I admit I do have a couple of scars on my wrists; Will’s asked me about them. To be honest I don’t know if he’s curious and he cares since he is my boyfriend or if it’s the psychologist that’s in him that wants to over analyze everything.

Kate Freelander knows what it’s like to watch the crimson life fluid be ripped from your veins by your own free will, it’s Kate and I that talks about, finds solace in it; Knows what it’s like to stop but still has those moments where it feels like your world is ending if you don’t find a razor blade and soon.

We call each other when we have that feeling and we need it too stop; God I can’t count the number of times that she’s been my confident; and I hope, I her.

Three months ago something changed in our relationship. Kate and Me. I’m not sure who started it, I’m not sure how, it was probably the cinnamon scented aromatherapy candles, too much talking and that bottle of Johnny Walker that seemed to burn our throats just right.

Fuck, I kissed her. She tastes just how she smells, like lilac and cardamom and something spicy and sweet all at the same time; something that is so uniquely Katie Freelander, that it just makes sense. Like the way her bubble gum pink coloured tongue licks her lips and the way her black eyelashes brush just to her cheek bone when they flutter close.

I can’t help it and I gasp when she flips me to the bed and I’m on my back and she pulls a switch blade from the back of her jeans, I knew it was there, she always carries it with her, she has since she was 13, she always has it for protection. Not that I blame her.

She slowly slices through the t-shirt I am wearing; my body seems too offer it to her blade like some sort of material sacrifice. It’s teasing me with its sharpness, I guess like how I am teasing her with my bareness I manage to think as she slices my Victoria Secret bra and the scrap of material falls to the floor.

She’s engaged, I’m dating someone; not someone. Will.

I am dating Will. But alas, here I am; waiting for her to either introduce the knife to my skin or…other sensitive and vulnerable parts of my body; places where it probably shouldn’t go.

Knives are about cold steel meeting warm flesh; In the right hands they can either bring you forth to warm high levels of ecstasy or can stop someone’s life. In Kate’s hands it manages to be a downright tease.

Fuck. God it feels so good, something this wrong shouldn’t feel so goddamned right, but my hips grind against anything it can reach while I feel the cold blade against my skin and her hot mouth following it. Knives reduce things to the basic and the simple. It is from there we build.

I know I feel and look vulnerable as I look upon the pretty Indian woman’s face that’s above me “trust me, I’ll never hurt you” she whispered and I trust her. I trust her in that moment more than I will ever trust Will and that scares me.

She spends hours cutting me slowly out of the fishnets I was wearing underneath a pair of denim shorts and I wonder if she is going to give me clothes to wear when we’re done.

We’re drunk, this should stop.

She licks my stomach and pours a bit of the hot wax from a candle just where her mouth left mine and it hurts so good that I can’t actually think; she spends another 30 minutes scraping it off.

We spend hours bringing each other to orgasm; I never been with a woman, but, Kate doesn’t seem to mind and I like her wiggling underneath me and hearing all of those little gasps as I do something that she seems to enjoy.

It’s four in the morning and both of us are sober and a new kind of exhausted, my skin is covered in a light layer of sweat and I’m breathing heavy, “I…discovered it with an ex, I know it’s a little unusual,” Kate tried to explain through heavy breaths “it’s like….wow sorry you wore me out” she giggles softly, “it’s like if you take the negatives, the pain and all that that the knife is usually associated with when an why you cut and replace it with the orgasms and the positives like tonight..Sometimes it’s easier to stop.”

I swallow “does it work?”

“Sometimes more than others,” she admitted “you’re not a fuck up, Abby, I know what you’re thinking,” she took the hair out of my eyes and somehow we knew that this was going to change or lives forever.  
Will doesn’t know anything about this. Part of me knows he won’t react well; a part of me doesn’t care; as long as I’m still with Kate.

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Author note 2: This helped a friend of mine get the help that she needed for her cutting, knife play and what not I mean. Please don’t take this as professional advice. I am not saying it will work for anyone else. But it did for her, if you do feel suicidal of feel the need to self-mutilate. Or just need to talk please call someone for help.


End file.
